


Sherlollipops - Monkey Business

by MizJoely



Series: 221 Sherlollipops [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, Sherlolly - Freeform, smexy times in the path lab
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 14:12:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1431442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has posted an explanation for how he survived the fall...and Molly Hooper is not amused (but mostly PWP).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlollipops - Monkey Business

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Benedict Cumberbatch's hilarious ComicCon "reveal" about how Sherlock survived The Fall. Watch it on Youtube! Written before Season 3, no spoilers, totally AU at this point.

"Sherlock! That – that was NOT NICE!"

Molly Hooper, normally calm, quiet and generally not given to hysterical outbursts, slammed the door of the Path lab behind her hard enough to shiver the frame, then marched over to glare at the object of her ire where he calmly sat gazing into his favorite microscope.

Without looking up, he drawled: "Could you be more specific, Molly? I do a lot of things people deem 'not nice.' Although," he added, finally meeting her gaze with a definite smirk on his lips, "I'm sure you're not referring to our last meeting?" He tilted his head to the side, regarding her thoughtfully as he took in her flushed cheeks and stormy brown eyes. "Although that particular encounter could be labeled 'not nice' if you're going with the more traditional definition of 'nice' in the sense that those activities hardly fall under the category of 'socially acceptable'..."

She swatted him on the arm, face flushing a deeper pink as she darted a guilty look around the lab, which was quite empty except for the two of them. "No, I wasn't talking about... _that_ ," she hissed as her flush deepened. "That was...that was quite...very...yes, it was nice."

"Then you're not talking about how I shagged you up against the wall of the morgue storage cupboard," Sherlock replied musingly, pretending to mull over possibilities while secretly enjoying this conversation very much...and knowing exactly what Molly was talking about. But it was quite fun to see her so flustered, and knowing he was the cause on more than one level was even more fun.

They'd become romantically entangled within weeks of his faked suicide, when he found himself emotionally raw and in need of – no, craving – human contact, a connection to the life he'd sacrificed in order to save John, Mrs. Hudson and DI Lestrade from Moriarty's murderous plot. And it wasn't simply that Molly was available, although it had taken him a while to understand that she believed that was the only reason he initiated their first sexual union. No, he'd been repressing feelings for her, had been ignoring his sexual attraction to her, for much longer than he'd been willing to admit. All that, however, was in the past. Now, he was having a great deal of fun pretending not to know what she was talking about.

"So it was very nice," he said, encouraging her to continue, deliberately lowering his voice to the slightly deeper register that seemed to work best on her limbic system. "Then perhaps we should try something similar..." He reached down and pulled up the sign he'd prepared earlier, handing it to her face up so she could read it. "Be a good girl and put this on the door and lock it, would you?"

"Lab temporarily closed for...fumigation?" she read, brow furrowed before darting her gaze up to meet his again. "You mean you want...right now? Here?" Her voice squeaked a bit on the last word, but judging by the way her pupils dilated and the visible increase in the pulse just under her jawline, she wasn't entirely against the idea.

He leaned forward, smiling a slow, seductive smile before shrugging out of his suit jacket. "It would be very...nice," he said suggestively. "Don't you think?"

He stood up, leaning across the table. She leaned forward as well, mouth half-opened, obviously more than prepared to meet his lips with her own, when she suddenly stopped, pulled back and frowned. "No, Sherlock!" she said, with some force. She allowed the sign to flutter to the floor as she straightened up and put her hands on her hips. "Stop distracting me!"

"Oh, is that what I was doing?" he asked, using his most innocent voice and expression. "I thought I was simply offering up what we both want." Her frown turned confused, so he elaborated: "Not just the sex, of course, but marking this room the way we've done every room in your flat...and mine...and, of course, the morgue via the supply cupboard." He waved an airy hand around, indicating the lab as a whole. "This is the only other place where we've spent a great deal of time together but haven't yet...christened, I believe is the correct term?"

He found it fascinating to watch her face flush even redder, to see her eyes darting around as if she hadn't actually considered the idea before. Well, it was possible she hadn't, and he certainly hadn't articulated it before, but it was true nonetheless; this was, indeed, the only remaining space where the two of them regularly interacted but hadn't yet...interacted, to be euphemistic and clever, not that he was ever any other way. Well, not always euphemistic, but certainly clever.

Seeming to draw on reserves of will power he hadn't believed she actually possessed, Molly took a step back, folded her arms across her chest, and attempted once again to glare at him. Personally he found it adorable when she tried to be cross with him, especially since she generally failed so miserably at it, but she was making a particular effort today and he supposed it would a good idea for him to let her have her say. John would certainly approve.

"Sherlock." He gave her his best attentive look, hands folded behind his back in spite of the fact that all he really wanted to do at this particular moment was pull Molly close to his body and... "Sherlock!" she repeated, clearly annoyed with him. Oh, had she learned to see through his ‘attentive look’ now? Brilliant! But he'd better really pay attention or there would be hell to pay. And certainly no shagging in his immediate future. "What you did on your web page...that wasn't nice!"

"I did a lot of things on my web page recently, Molly, could you please try to be more specific?" How had he gone so long not realizing that deliberately needling Molly could be so delightful? Well, he always missed something...

"You," she said, maneuvering around the table and getting right in front of him. He backed up a step, but she continued to advance, jabbing a finger into his chest as she spoke. "You posted a notification that you were going to tell everyone how you faked your suicide. And then you, you did that, that thing," she waved her hands in the air in exasperation, "that thing with the stupid little stuffed monkey! And pretending that the signal was being disrupted so no one could hear what you said except for teasing little bits here and there...and distorting the image so no one could record it and slow it down and try to read your lips...that was just mean!"

He gave up pretending not to know what she was on about, body shaking with silent laughter as he also gave up pretending he didn't want to take her in his arms. He yanked her close and lowered his head to hers for a very satisfying kiss, which she resisted for about a nanosecond before yielding to his embrace, opening her mouth beneath his and allowing his tongue entry.

When the kiss ended, he released her and began speaking rapidly, trying to get it over with so they could get on with the rest of the afternoon's agenda. "People will not stop pestering me about it, Molly, and since I know you don't want your part in the scheme to be exposed – although I can assure you, your position here is quite inviolable thanks to Mycroft's influence and your own impeccable record, I might add – the only logical thing to do is make it quite clear that there is nothing anyone can do short of becoming an evil criminal mastermind..." He bent, picked up the discarded sign, pulled the small roll of tape out of his pocket and made his way to the door... "that will cause me to give up that secret. Or the identity of any accomplices I may or may not have had. Mycroft and John are the chief suspects, of course," he added as he opened the door, glanced quickly down the hall in both directions – empty of life, excellent – and affixed his very professional looking sign to the window. He shut the door, locked it, pulled the shade and turned back to face Molly, who was gaping at him open-mouthed, giving him some very delightful mental images of her with her mouth open that wide but engaged in more than simply...what was the phrase? Oh yes, ‘catching flies’. He flicked the light switch as he started moving again, leaving only the single light over the sink to keep the room from complete darkness.

"However, suspicions are not facts and I will never reveal those facts to anyone who doesn't already know them. John, as we both know, has proven well able to keep things out of his blog that he knows might hurt anyone. Specifically, you." With that, he returned to Molly's side; why was she still staring at him like that...oh, of course, he'd started undoing the buttons to his shirt as soon as the door was locked behind them. He shrugged it off once he was directly in front of her, then reached out and started in on the buttons to her lab coat.

To her credit, she not only didn't say anything or try to stop him, but actively helped by reaching out and undoing the buckle to his belt. He grinned, knowing it to be wolfish and feral, and was met by her own shy smile, the one he'd grown to know and love. He might once have passed some ridiculous comment about her lips looking too small, but he know how those lips felt beneath his, and how they felt as they caressed his body...and how they felt wrapped around his cock...

He'd been half-hard before, and was now at what Molly teasingly called ‘full-on steel rod.’ It still astonished him that simply thinking about Molly could affect his body so powerfully, but he'd long since given up any inclination to fight the effect she had on him.

And this lab really did need to be christened by the two of them. He'd met her for the first time in this very room; they'd performed experiments together here; less happily, she'd introduced him to Jim Moriarty here, and although that had proven to be a very unfortunate meeting in more than one way, he needed to erase any claim the dead madman might have on it. Ridiculous, superstitious, but there you had it; Sherlock Holmes giving in to such nonsense, and all because he'd fallen in love with a shy, socially awkward pathologist with big brown eyes and cinnamon colored hair and the dress sense of a color blind twelve-year-old tomboy.

He smiled. His pathologist was currently undressing herself as he shimmied out of his trousers and pants, socks and shoes long since having been removed. He watched appreciatively as she shrugged off her blouse and shucked her trousers and knickers and the lovely pink lace bra that enhanced her small but perfectly shaped breasts so well. Of course, he much preferred them free of any such restraints, no matter how flattering, open to his gaze and hands and lips.

Putting thought to action he pulled her into his arms, kissing her deeply, pressing his naked body tightly against hers, maneuvering them so that she backed up to the low counter he'd cleared off before settling in to pretend to examine slides under the microscope. Once she was seated she was exactly the right height...yes, perfect, was his last coherent thought as she reached down and fisted his cock. "Sherlock, please stop thinking and just fuck me," she whispered against his ear, biting down on the lobe insistently.

He groaned and complied, lifting her legs so she was canted a bit, hips tilted up to meet his as he allowed her to guide him into her welcoming wetness. Yes, he should certainly have engaged in a bit of foreplay and certainly would when they returned to her flat at the end of her shift, but time was a bit of an issue at the moment – the sign would only keep people out for an hour at most before someone started pounding on the door and demanding to know who'd authorized the fumigation during the middle of the day – and he knew Molly understood that as well as he did. Besides, she was more than ready for him; she always was, he thought smugly. Then he gave over thinking as she clenched her inner muscles around his cock, wrenching a needy groan from his lips.

She was leaning back a bit, eyes closed as their hips rocked together, and he leaned down and began pressing a series of feverish kisses along the side of her neck, arched so invitingly and impossible to resist. With her legs locked around his waist, leaning back so that her arms could more easily support her, she looked completely wanton...and when she opened her eyes and gave him a wicked smile, he increased his movements and thrust his tongue into her mouth with another groan. God, how could he have been brought so low by a woman everyone dismissed as ordinary – including himself, once upon a time?

"Sherlock," she moaned, reaching up to tug at his hair, pulling his face to hers for another kiss, and he could tell she was close, so very close; using one finger, he reached down and delicately scraped it across her clitoris and then watched avidly as she completely fell apart, gasping out his name interspersed with moans and gasps and sharp cries that impelled him to his own orgasm within seconds.

 

After they'd cleaned up and removed the sign and unlocked the lab – no one, it appeared, had even come down the hall during their liaison, let alone tested the door handle – he pressed one last, lingering kiss to her lips before preparing to leave. "So, Molly, tell me again how not nice I've been," he murmured into her ear.

She laughed and batted him on the arm. "You git! Just promise you'll take that ridiculous video down as soon as you get back to your flat! It's just mean, that's what it is! No matter how nice you are to me," she added with a blush. When would she stop blushing around him, he wondered, while at the same time hoping the answer was ‘never.’

"We'll see," was all he said in response, giving her an irrepressible wink before sauntering out of the lab.

Maybe one day he'd admit to the fact that she was the only one who would ever see that particular video, since the feed had been sent directly to her laptop rather than to the general public.

Sod them; they could ask until Judgement Day for all he cared. He would never answer to the public, not about how he'd survived his fall and certainly not about his relationship with Molly Hooper.

Well, not until the wedding, of course. But until he actually asked Molly to marry him – in, hm, two weeks – that was a concern for another day.  
He smiled.


End file.
